“He’ll be fine,” Corra told her, putting her hand on Leta’s back. “If it’s his health you’re worried about — listen, he’s got Daelen. Daelen’s fantastic. He’s got this. And I’m not worried about stupid Fiearius anyway. I’m worried about you. How are you doing? Honestly.”

“I’m okay. Really.” Leta put her chin in her hand. Usually, Leta was not one to  divulge her personal life, but they had been drinking for a few hours now. She went on, her voice careful, “Mostly it’s just strange. Waking up in a new room on the Beacon instead of, you know. With him.”

“Hey.” Corra smirked. “I offered to let you stay with me in my quarters.”

“Thanks,” Leta laughed. “I may take you up on that. Not exactly the same, though.”

Corra drummed her fingers against her glass, but did not take her eyes off her friend. “You don’t really miss him though do you? After what he did?”

“It’s not just the lying — it’s what he said to me afterwards. He said that he can’t trust me with some things. If he didn’t tell me about the Flush, who knows what else he was keeping from me?” Leta’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead, as if bitterly impressed. “What a load of shit.” She shook her head, dazed. Then she quickly grabbed for her glass and brought it closer, almost urgently. “Anyway, I don’t miss him yet. But I have a bad feeling I will. Which is why I had to leave.”

Corra stared at her sadly. She didn’t really have any experience of her own in this matter, so she couldn’t totally understand what Leta was feeling or why. All she knew was that, “You made the right choice.” A grin slid across her face. “Leaving the Dionysian was the best thing I ever did. And I guarantee you it’ll be the best thing you ever did. That ship’s a leaky lifeboat. It gets you out of a tough spot alive, barely, but you and me? We don’t need that anymore. We’ve already made it to shore. Time to move on.”

To Corra’s surprise and relief, Leta actually smiled — a real smile that spread across her face. The first one she’d seen in days.

“I’ll cheers to that,” Leta said, tilting her glass against hers.

– – – –

Hours later, Corra was proud that she and Leta were the very last ones still in the bar, talking and laughing until the whole place had emptied out. Arm-in-arm, they’d stumbled back to the Beacon, and Corra waved to Leta as she veered toward her bedroom.

Feeling more sober than Leta looked, Corra went up the stairs toward her own room, but then she noticed that the main lights in the bridge were still on, illuminating the hallway. At this hour? Finn spent half his life in the bridge, but it was still late, even for him.

Inside, Finn was in the pilot’s seat, his feet propped up on the console screen. A book lay open in his lap, and he looked up.

“She returns,” he said warmly. He leaned back in his seat, his palms at his neck. “How was your night out, captain?”

Corra plopped into the seat beside him and kicked off her heels. “A very handsome gentleman bought me a drink and seemed pretty impressed about my ship.”

“Our ship,” said Finn at once, but then he grinned, rather flirtatiously.  “Sounds like it went well — you trying to make me jealous?”

Corra rolled her eyes. It was well-established that her relationship with Finn was a professional one. Well. Professional with occasional — nay, regular as of late — extras added in. Still, their trysts was just that — trysts — though this did not prevent Finn from using lines on her. Fortunately, he only did so when they were alone.

“Not on your life, Riley,” she replied, her tone shutting him down, but her smile telling a different story.

“If your night went so well, why’re you home early, then?”

Corra sighed. “Because tonight wasn’t about that. It was about Leta.” Her expression softened. “I’m worried about her. She’s just down, y’know? This whole week, no matter what I do, she’s just quiet and distant…”

“Well, it hasn’t been long since …. ”

“I know.” She pulled her legs up onto the chair to sit cross-legged, laying her hands in her lap. “I only wish I could help.” She fell quiet for a moment as she looked down at her foot. But then she remembered. “She still hates you by the way.”

Finn not look perturbed. “I figured.”

“It was pretty crappy of you,” Corra insisted. “To keep this from her. By all the rules of friendship, I should be mad with you too, honestly.”

“By the rules of friendship? Corra, it’s those ‘rules of friendship’ that kept me from telling her to begin with. If Leta came to you and told you a secret and said not to mention it to anybody else, even if you knew it was hurting somebody, would you?”

Corra’s resolve faltered. “No,” she admitted. “I guess if I promised, I wouldn’t tell…”

“Besides, I did keep a dangerous secret for Leta once. Remind her of that next time she calls for my head on a stake.”

Corra laughed. “And have her mad at me? No thanks.”

Finn sat up, dropping his book onto the dashboard. “Well at least I have good news,” he said, and Corra perked up.

“You do? Did you get us a job?”

Finn nodded. “Callahan got ahold of me today. Says he has a good one lined up for us.”

Though the Beacon had been working with Callahan for five months now, Corra still wasn’t particularly fond of the man. He was slimy, and he was still disgustingly dedicated to the idea that Corra was an ally that belonged to Finn — no matter how many times Finn corrected him. Despite how she’d consistently proven herself to be just as competent as anyone else aboard the ship, he still refused to look at her when they were in the same room. So to Corra, this news was not particularly good.

“Ugh,” she groaned, sinking back into her chair. “Him?”

“Hey, I’m not crazy about him either, but just wait til you hear the pay.”

She lifted her eyebrows skeptically. “How much?”

Finn grinned. “Oh just enough to keep us job-free for two months.”

Corra’s eyes grew wide and she sat back up again. “Wait — what? That much? Why?” She frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Finn shrugged. “No catch as far as I can tell. He’s a little bit desperate for this job. It’s just a ship he needs delivered, like usual. Only the destination’s not exactly a five star resort and I guess the ship is something special. Sounds easy.”

Corra didn’t quite believe it. In her experience on the Dionysian, easy always meant ‘‘too good to be true.’ But as much as she disliked Callahan, he hadn’t lead them astray so far and if he really was paying such a sum, it was worth investigating at the very least.

“So we’re headed to Archeti then?”

“First thing in the morning.” He paused, and added playfully, “If I have my co-captain’s approval, that is.”

“It’s yours,” Corra snorted, giving him a lazy salute with her fingers. Then she pushed herself to her bare feet and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m off to bed then.”

Finn turned back to the console screen as Corra walked toward the door. Before she left, she tapped her finger against the light controls, switching them off so semi-darkness fell through the room. Finn frowned at her, puzzled, but then he seemed to understand completely as Corra said, “You coming with me, or what?”

“Well, she’s gone,” he said abruptly and even without looking, Fiearius could feel the judgment in his stance. He knew Cyrus stood with his arms crossed over his chest, frown on his face, a pose he’d seen a thousand times before.

“The Beacon’s just taken off,” he went on flatly. “I brought her most of her things, but if you have anything else, put it in a box and I’ll make sure they get to her later.”

So Leta’s room had been emptied. At some point, he’d have to rid his own quarters of her. She left clothes in there, sometimes. And her books.

“Daelen’s moved into her old quarters and is setting up the infirmary,” Cyrus continued. “He’s going to help you through detox.” A long silence passed, before Cyrus took a deep breath and continued further. “He says you have a couple days left before your symptoms amplify so in that couple days, you need to figure out what we’re doing with the ship for the next few weeks. Where we can dock, how we’re going to eat.”

This time, Cyrus’ pause was even more expectant. He wanted an answer, But Fiearius still said nothing until Cyrus said impatiently, “Okay? Can you do that?”

Numbly, Fiearius nodded.

“Good,” he said shortly. Fiearius heard him turn to walk away. But he stopped a few steps later. “Oh and you can explain to the crew why none of them will be getting paid for the next month as well,” he added coldly before marching off down the hall, his footsteps fading behind him.

– – –

The bar was crowded and noisy, the din of conversation warmly filling the room as drinks were poured and shots were thrown back. Music spilled from shabby speakers in the corner, and as Corra reached for her cocktail, she decided a night out was just what the doctor ordered. Especially since the handsome man at her side asked conversationally, sounding fascinated, “So you’re a ship captain then?”

“Sure am,” she said proudly, raising her glass at him before bringing to her lips. Well, co-captain, technically, though this lot didn’t need to know that.  Why ruin it with technicalities? Instead, she went on, “Own the ship myself too. Great, beautiful boat like you wouldn’t believe. State of the art and everything.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t believe it for a reason,” said the man’s friend, who was surveying Corra with disbelief from behind the rim of his beer. Corra just rolled her eyes.

Fortunately, the other man was not dissuaded. “You don’t mean that big one I saw on the docks? Landed yesterday? All smooth curves and light metal?”

“That’s the one!” Corra cheered, grinning at him. “That’s my Beacon.”

“Good gods,” laughed the man in surprise. “That ship must have cost a fortune.”

Corra just shrugged, sipping her fruity cocktail. “Beats me,” she said, an image of innocence before she dropped the bomb. “I stole it.”

It worked just as she anticipated. Both men looked astonished and impressed. Feeling particularly proud of herself, Corra lifted her chin and sipped her drink nonchalantly. She was about to launch into the epic tale of how she’d managed the feat (which would exclude the fact that Cyrus and Leta had done the actual theft), when she glanced across the room and noticed Leta.

She did not appear to be enjoying herself.

Twenty minutes ago, Corra had left her in the company of some tall man with good hair who seemed reasonably witty. Corra thought Leta would’ve enjoyed his company, but it didn’t seem that way: Leta was leaning against the wall, looking more interested in her glass of whiskey than the man who appeared to be droning through a long, self-indulgent story.

Well that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Corra had brought Leta out tonight with the intention of having fun. It had only been a week since the Great Breakup, which may have been too early to start hitting the dock bars full of shipchasers and fleeting romances, but Leta had reluctantly agreed to it anyway. Now that she saw the discomfort in Leta’s face, even from over here, Corra knew this wasn’t for the best.

“Another story for another time, I’m afraid,” she told her adoring fans, as she slipped from the bar stool and melted into the crowd of people. When she reached Leta, the woman’s eyes lit up with hope and Corra knew exactly what to do.

“Chicka, come here, I need to have an actually active and interesting conversation with you,” she said loudly, cutting off Leta’s obnoxious companion. Corra cut him a sharp glare. “Unlike some people.” The look on his face made it clear that he got the hint. Not that Corra felt bad. He had one job. One simple job of entertaining her friend and he couldn’t even do that. Useless.

Leaving him behind, she lead Leta back to the bar and nodded to the bartender to get them both refills. “Y’know,” she said at last, “If you didn’t want to come out tonight, you could have told me. We didn’t have to.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Leta argued. “I thought it’d be a good distraction.”

“It’s okay,” Corra assured her with a smile as the man behind the bar returned with their drinks. “We can still drink, just the two of us.”

“I never really liked mingling in bars,” Leta admitted, and Corra laughed.

“It’s definitely not for everyone. Next time maybe I’ll take you somewhere nicer.” She nudged Leta with her elbow. “Somewhere fancy? Find you some nice classy people?”

“That’d be a dramatic change,” Leta snorted, taking a long swig of her drink.

Corra’s smile faded away. Though she was hesitant to bring it up, she couldn’t help but ask, “Have you talked to him since–you know?”

“No. Not at all. He’s sent me a few messages, but I don’t have anything left to say to him.”

Corra nodded in understanding. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I gave him enough,” Leta agreed, rolling her eyes dryly to the side. After a moment, she went on, “He’s about to suffer withdrawal,” and flicked her eyes to the rim of her glass. “He’ll be seriously ill. Out of commission for a few weeks at least.”

“That asshole,” was Corra’s summation once Leta (with a little help from Cyrus) had managed to explain. Already half an hour had passed since the fight that had driven Leta to the Beacon, but she was still reeling. Her hands were shaking in her lap. The calming hum of the empty bridge had done nothing to soothe her, nor did the tea and whiskey Cyrus had made, nor Corra’s assurance that she had expelled Fiearius from the ship and set some of her best guys on the job to make sure he stayed that way. She still felt adrift in some vast ocean barely able to keep treading water.

Corra’s feelings were a little more concise.

“That fucking, lying asshole.” She paced the room in a fervor. “I shoulda shot him. I really shoulda.” She turned on Cyrus who was slumped in the pilot’s seat looking as exhausted as she felt. “Why didn’t you let me shoot him?”

Cyrus lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. “‘Cause then he’d be a fucking, lying, bleeding asshole?”

Corra stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest. “The hell’s wrong with that?” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t think I can talk to him,” said Leta, her voice hollow and empty. “Or see him. Or even look at him.”

“Then we’ll go,” Corra said at once, as though it were the most simple solution ever uttered. When Leta looked up at her in surprise, she went on, “We’ll just go. Cyrus and I will go back to the Dionysian, grab your things, bring them here and we’ll leave. Today. Right now.”

“You mean — “ Leta was almost afraid to say the words aloud. “Move to the Beacon?”

“Why not?” Corra’s eyes shone with eagerness. “You want to get away from Captain Shithead? We’ll take you away from him. He’s toxic. His problems, in their vast quantity, are contagious and you don’t need him. Just come with us. We have plenty of space. Good work coming in, so we can easily afford to feed one more. We don’t get injured that often so you might get bored, but the crew’s great, the facilities are great, I’m here.” She stalked over to Leta and picked up her hands. “Join the Beacon. You’ll be much happier here, I know it.”

Leta couldn’t speak. She felt an odd sensation in her chest — painful, but hopeful.

“I don’t know if that’s really–” Cyrus began, leaning forward in his chair but Leta cut him off.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said at last, her voice gentle. Corra beamed. “I’d like that.”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Corra, however, was ecstatic. She gripped Leta’s forearms and bounced on her toes and let out a squeal.

“You’re right,” said Leta quietly. “It’s time. I said I’d only leave the Dionysian when it was time. And — it’s time.”

“Yes, let’s go!” Corra agreed, releasing her and flitting across to the navigation console. “Where do you wanna go? A vineyard on Rossind? Shopping on Tarin? A casino in Genisi? Without Mr. Wanted-By-Everyone-Everywhere, we could even do a tropical getaway on Paraven?”

Leta smiled weakly. Corra’s glee was almost, but not quite, contagious. “Remember we always said we’d visit the hot springs just outside of Vena?”

“You got it!” Corra yelped. “We’ll go anywhere you want! By tonight you’ll be saying Fieari-who? I guarantee it.”

Cyrus finally got to his feet, looking dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious,” he said, staring between the two of them. “What, just–whisking away. Just like that. Isn’t that kind of unnecessary?”

“Unnecessary?” Corra repeated. “It’s completely necessary.”

Cyrus ignored her and looked desperately to Leta. “Look, I know you’re mad at him, but c’mon. You can’t just leave. I mean, what he did was shitty, but this, fleeing on the Beacon…isn’t this kind of ridiculous?”

Corra’s glare was sudden and intense. “Wait, please tell me you’re not defending him?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” Cyrus said hurriedly, “But you can’t just leave like this.”

“Cyrus,” Leta pressed softly. “I’m sorry. But I think it’s time. I’m no help to Fiearius — in any way — if he can’t even tell me about something like this. He needs a doctor he can talk to. And I’m not clearly that person anymore.”

“But what about the rest of us?” Cyrus despaired. “I know you just want to get away from Fiear and I respect that, but if you leave us here? I don’t know the first thing about withdrawals or getting people through them or anything! And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? We can’t afford to stay docked here much longer than a week. The Society’s still tailing us. We’re severely low on cash. And, incidentally, rations. And even if we figure all that out, there’s still the matter that my brother, hate him all you want, could die without medical care that I can’t give him. I’m not defending Fiearius, I’m asking for help.”

“Cyrus. Of course I don’t want Fiearius to suffer, but I can’t–”

But another voice interrupted her, warm and kind. “You’ll have help.”

It was Daelen in the doorway, his eyes kind and a little sad. When Corra cast him a look of concern, he held up his hand and went on, “Despite what we say captain, the Beacon doesn’t have a need for two physicians. Leta can take my place here and I’ll take hers on the Dionysian. And we’ll get through it.”

Cyrus couldn’t have looked more relieved. “Thank you,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“So it’s settled then,” said Corra, clapping her hands together. “Daelen will go to the Dionysian, Leta will stay here, Fiearius will realize how big of an idiot he is — and we’ll all get through this.”

Privately, sincerely, Leta was not sure that they would. But she said nothing as everyone murmured agreement.

“I’ll go get your stuff together, alright?” said Cyrus quietly, catching Leta’s eye and giving her a look of encouragement. He squeezed her shoulder, and he and Daelen left the room, leaving heavy, confused silence in their wake.

Corra beamed at her, clearly excited.  “So. Ready to go then huh?” she said, but Leta was finding it difficult to speak. Her throat suddenly tightened.

“I don’t know if I am. But I don’t know how I could stay, either.”

“Leta, it’s alright to leave! Daelen’s a great doctor, you know that, I know that, everyone knows it. He’ll handle things on the Dionysian just fine. Don’t worry about it. Fiear’ll get through this like he gets through everything and come out the other side just as much a piece of space trash as he was when he went in.”

As much as Leta wanted to laugh at Corra’s words, to really agree with her, she couldn’t. She felt herself dissolving, and Corra reached out and took her shoulder.

“I really can’t believe Fiearius didn’t tell you,” she said quietly, which made Leta’s eyes swim with tears.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” she admitted, bringing her hands to her face.

“Look, I’m quite versed on how dumb it was, alright? Hindsight’s 20/20,” he said, fighting to keep himself from snapping. “And I wanted to tell you! I almost did, just–”

“Just what?”

“Just, I knew you’d react like this!” he finished with a yell that surprised them all.

He knew he’d said the wrong thing when Leta’s eyes flashed and then, abruptly, she turned around and stalked down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he called, growling his frustration. He did not hesitate in following after her, his footsteps pounding down the hallway, but she didn’t look back. “I didn’t want to upset you! It was my problem to fix, not yours!”

“And are you fixing it? Are you?” She shot him an icy glare. “How well is that working out for you?”

“Well, it’s–” He stammered and then frowned. “Fine. It’s not. I couldn’t do it. I failed. Is that what you want to hear? I screwed up. But I’m fixing it now, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was a mistake, but I’m trying to make it right. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

When she only scoffed in disbelief, he reached for her arm, but she yanked it away. Groaning, he stopped and barked, “Would you fucking stop and just talk to me?!”

When she stopped abruptly and regarded him closely in icy silence, he thought he might’ve won a piece of her back. At the very least, her expression was less hardened. Softer. Sadder. He could still fix this, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

But then she asked, “Who else knows?”

It was, quite possibly, one of the worst questions she could’ve asked. His heart sank.

“Dez knows, of course,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Daelen found out just a few days back. I talked to Cyrus about it ten minutes ago.” He took a deep breath. “And I told Finn.”

Leta blinked slowly. He knew she was experiencing another wave of shock. “You told Finn and not me,” she said at last, voice shaking. “You’ve been putting your trust in Dez, Daelen, Finn, and not me?”

“No, of course I trust you, you know that I do, but–” Fiearius shook his head. “There are some things I can’t trust you with.”

“Excuse me?” she flared. “What the hell does that mean?”

It meant he’d made a mistake. A big one. He knew he should have backpedaled. He should have apologized and made an excuse and pretend he hadn’t meant it. But as he stood there, watching her slip from his grasp with each passing second, he felt cornered and he started to feel not sorry but panicked and — worse — angry. So he did the opposite.

“You know what it means,” he snapped, throwing a hand in the air in frustration. “Because you’ve always been like this! I have to walk on fucking eggshells around you because gods forbid I do one thing that doesn’t fit into your perfect narrow vision of what’s ‘good’ and ‘right.’ Of course I can’t tell you some things.”

“Narrow vision of — wait, are you trying to argue that lying was the right thing to do?”

“No! No, not–That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what are you talking about? How I don’t like it when you murder people for a quick credit? Or steal from innocent people? Or how I pushed you toward doing something good instead of selling guns to low-lifes?”

“See, this is exactly what I’m–Look, my number one priority is keeping my crew alive and my ship in the air and I have always done whatever it takes to make that happen. And then you show up with your moral high ground–”

“Moral high ground?! Are you–”

“–and I have to compromise everything just to make you happy. I used to think that being around you would make me a better person. The kind of person that you would approve of. But you know what I think now? It’s just made me better at pretending to be.”

“Apparently,” she breathed, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Certainly had me fooled for long enough.”

Fiearius almost laughed. Almost. “I was never good enough for you, was I? What was this? Just a ‘fuck you’ to your ex? To your father? Or was I a failed fixer-upper experiment? Why the fuck are you even with me?”

Leta fixed him with one long, hard glare, then turned away. When she started storming off, he could not say he was surprised.

“Shit,” he muttered as the full error of his actions became more clear. Foolish as it was, he started following after her again. Her feet pounded down the stairs, all the way through the cargo bay and down the ramp. For a moment he had no idea where she could be headed, but then he realized, she was headed toward safety: the Beacon.

“Leta!” he called, just as she stalked up the Beacon’s ramp. “Leta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–Please, listen to me — ” he begged, but all she said was, her voice ice cold, “Leave me alone, Fiearius.”

Clenching his jaw, Fiearius paused only for a moment before starting after her. He did not make it far. Just when he headed toward a set of metal stairs, Corra cut in front of him, her hands on his hips.

“I think she said to leave her alone,” Corra snapped. Fiearius groaned. Just what he needed. A best friend intervention.

“Out of the way Corra,” he grumbled, attempting to edge around her, but suddenly he heard a familiar metallic clunk. A gun was staring him in the face, locked in Corra’s hand. Fiearius staggered a few steps back. “What’re you–”

“She said to leave her alone,” Corra growled again. “Maybe you should do that.”

Stunned, Fiearius looked from her face to the gun and back again. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Get off my ship,” she barked.

“Corra I–I just need to talk to her,” he tried to reason.

“Well clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“I don’t care. She said to go, you go. Seems pretty simple to me.” Corra tilted her head and lifted her brows, patiently waiting for him to move. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. This was stupid. He just needed to talk to her, he could fix this if Corra would just get out of his way.

But she didn’t seem likely to. “Get. Off. Of my ship, Fiearius,” Corra snapped, speaking slowly like he was a child. “Just turn right around and go.” When he didn’t budge, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me shoot you again, Fiear, you know I will.”

Getting shot hardly seemed like the largest of his worries right now. “I’m not leaving,” he informed her.

Corra sighed. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She cocked her gun and pointed it at his shoulder. “Where do you want it? I’m thinkin’ arm area so you can still walk out of here, but it’s up to you.”

“Don’t.”

The voice came from behind them. It was Cyrus, marching up the Beacon’s ramp. He was coming to Fiearius’ aid, but he could not have looked less pleased about it. “Please don’t, he’s already fucked up enough as it is without a bullet in him,” he muttered, refusing to even glance at his brother.

Corra cast Cyrus a wary look. “Do I need to kick you out too or…?”

“Nope, as usual, I am an innocent bystander in my brother’s mess,” Cyrus answered. “Where did she go?”

Corra nodded her head in the direction Leta had fled and Cyrus headed off again. For the first time, Fiearius felt a small glimmer of hope. “Talk some sense into her, Cy,” he called after him, pleading in his voice. “Please.”

But Cyrus did not look back as he disappeared down the hallway.

– – – – – –